


The Girl in The Photograph, and The Boy in The Darkness

by themoonandotherslikeit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Love, dis cute, inexperieneced!Reader, lanuage, otp, request, virgin!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 00:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandotherslikeit/pseuds/themoonandotherslikeit
Summary: After spending the last five years dreaming about your best friends older brother, seeing him in a bar on the lowest night of your life surprised you at best. Between his heavy gaze and the three shots you’d downed you were ready to make some mad decisions. At least that’s what you thought, until the badass guy in the cool car met your eyes and everything else melted away. Maybe it wouldn’t matter that you were inexperienced, maybe it wouldn’t matter that in your mind, he was perfect, maybe for once you could let go and climb into his car, regardless of the consequences, regardless of what was right, or what was smart, because that’s what you do when Dean Winchester offers you his hand. Right?





	The Girl in The Photograph, and The Boy in The Darkness

You’d known Dean Winchester since you were a senior in high school, when he and Sam rolled into town for a job. You immediately got close to Sam, he was sweet and smart, and he understood you in a way that other guys couldn’t. He wanted to stay in town, despite his fathers insistence that he moved around constantly. You’d never quite understood why it pissed John Winchester off so much that Sam wanted to be more than a guy with a gun in a car. 

You’d never forget the night that he told you everything. You sat, leaning against the wall with your legs crossed. He sat on the bed across from you, wringing his hands, because he knew he shouldn’t say anything. It was too risky. You could flip out, but he was your best friend.

_“Just tell me, Sam. Spit it out for God sakes.”_

_“Y/N.” He exhaled your name weakly. “I just don’t know how to say it. You’re going to think I’m insane.”_

_“Cool. I spent the last year watching Pretty Woman every night. I know every word. We all have a thing.”_

_“It isn’t like that. It’s not the same.” He said meeting your eyes with a small smile._

_“Seriously, Sam. Every word. Don’t make me show you.” You threaten, pointing a finger at him, before your tone softens. “Come on, Sam. You’re my best friend. You gave me your flannel when I bled through my pants, please don’t get all weird on me now.”_

_Sam smiled, his dimples coming out from the corners of his mouth. “Fine, but you’re not allowed to think I’m crazy.”_

_“Scouts honor.”_

_“My family… hunts monsters.”_

_You raise an eyebrow. “Like….Bigfoot?”_

_“No.” He sighed and shook his head. “Like.. I don’t know. Ghosts?”_

_“Like The Exorcist?”_

_“Well… Yeah kind of, but not just ghosts. Werewolves, vampires, Ghouls… all that shit that goes bump in the night. We find them and kill them.” He said, the words spilling out of his lips like he’d been holding his breath. Maybe he was._

_“Wow.”_

_“Wow?”_

_“It’s just that, uh, very few people surprise me.” You say with a smile. “Pretty Woman.” You do a dramatic bow from your seated position before looking at him through your hair. “You’re being serious, aren’t you, Sam?”_

_“I am.”_

_“So you and your hot older brother and your hot Dad… hunt monsters.”_

_“Gross, you didn’t just call them hot.”_

_You shrug. “You’re hot, too, don’t be offended.”_

_“Yeah. We hunt monsters.”_

_You meet his eyes. “Okay.”_

He stayed with you your entire senior year. He wanted a consistent senior year so he could get into Stanford, so your mom let him sleep on the floor of your bedroom. You would stay up all night talking, and as he told you stories of Dean, you started to fall in love with the rugged older brother of Sam Winchester. 

Sam painted him as a hero, evil blood on his hands, motor oil on his shirt, and sweat on his brow. There wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for his younger brother. Nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice. 

You imagine that there wasn’t any way he could live up to your expectation, to what you dreamed him to be. Yet, when you closed your eyes at night you could imagine his green eyes staring into your soul.

You’d met him only the once, when his Dad dropped Sam off. 

_“Take care of my little brother.” He grunted, his green eyes damp at the edges._

_“I think he can take care of himself.”_

_“Right.”_

You didn’t know then, about the monsters. 

The day that Sam left for Stanford you cried way too much. 

_“I didn’t think we were going to do this, Y/N.”_

_“We weren’t.” You admitted, smiling through your tears. “I’m just going to miss you.”_

_“I’ll call every day.” He promised, pulling you into one more big hug._

You started at an all girls college, and you did talk to Sam every night, at first. But then he met a girl, like they always did. Men like The Winchesters didn’t bother with girls like you. Not that there was anything wrong with you, but you weren’t Jessica. Not with those bedroom eyes, and award winning smile. She could move mountains with her hips, and you were captain of the debate team. 

Time flew by, and on the night before your graduation you realized that you never got any of it. You tried Sams phone number, but it was disconnected, and you sat in the parking lot of your college, empty. 

You pulled off your cap, and tossed it to the ground before heading to the bar off campus. You slid up to the bar rail and leaned into it in your black, slinky, graduation dress. You gestured for a shot, or maybe five. You’d never been kissed. The closest you had to a date was when Sam Winchester took you out for ice cream, but he was basically a brother, so that certainly didn’t count. 

You down two shots before a thick body dropped down next to you on the barstool. You grab for the third shot before a chuckle erupted from the throat of the stranger next to you. “Slow down, Sweetheart. Where’s the fire?”

You turn to briskly tell the guy to fuck off, but as your mouth opened to speak your breath hitched in your throat. Your eyes locked with the mossy green eyes that you’d seen only once in person, but a thousand times in your head. They were greener than Sams, but still familiar. “Dean Winchester?” You ask, before you can stop yourself.

“Uh, yeah.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do I know you?” His pink lips curled into a smile, and your heart began to race .

“I was Sams friend. From his senior year?”

“Wait…” A wrinkle curled onto Deans forehead, his eyebrows rolling together. “Oh shit, Y/N? Damn you grew up.” He chuckled. 

You can feel heat inch up your collarbones onto your neck, and cheeks. You look at your lap. “Yeah. Five years will do that.” 

“Right.” You can feel his eyes on you.

“I, uh… have you heard from Sam? It’s been awhile.” 

“Yeah, actually. He’s here with me.” 

“Oh.” Your heart rate picked up again at the idea of seeing your best friend, but when you look back at Dean you see that he’s leaning in close to you. 

“What’re you so dressed up for?” He gestured to the graduation outfit you’d spent two weeks on. 

“College graduation.” 

“Wow, a college girl. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Sammy had smart friends.” Dean tilted his head to the side, his grin growing on his cheeks. “Celebrating then?”

“Something like that.” You were getting your voice back, the shots you downed finally sending warmth through your bloodstream. 

“Want to make some bad decisions?” He asked suddenly. He was so close that his breath was on your neck, tickling it. 

You could’ve passed out right there, your head felt light enough. You swallow your third shot and you nod quickly, not wanting to let your voice give away how nervous you were. When else would you get a chance like that? To be with _the_ Dean Winchester. You grinned to yourself, hearing Sams voice in your head. _“God that’s so fucking gross. He’s my brother. He’s just a guy. You do know that right?”_ No. You didn’t know that, but you were damn ready to find out. 

Dean tossed down some cash on the bar top, and rested his hand on your lower back to lead you out of the bar. You walked into the cool Spring night air. The wind picked up your hair, and Dean glanced at you with a smirk. You could see lust in his eyes and it made your stomach flip. You knew it couldn’t go far. You were a virgin, in _every_ way, and you weren’t really prepared to take too big of a leap. 

He walked you to the car. _The car_. The Impala. It was their fathers before Deans ,and it was beautiful. You weren’t a car girl, but somehow you knew it was something special. It fit Dean perfectly, with its slick, dark exterior. There was something sexy and dangerous about it that got your heart racing. You swallowed hard as he opened the door. 

“‘M lady.” 

Good God.

You smiled at him and hoped it looked effortless as you slid into the passenger seat. He walked around the side of the car and slid into the drivers seat. “Alright. Back to my place?” He eyed you. 

Your eyes widened. You weren’t sure exactly why you were surprised. This was Dean Winchester. He didn’t really seem like the kind that liked to _talk_. Even though you imagined it in your head. He’d wrap his arm around you and you’d stare at the night sky, talking until the sun came up, but that was a notion of a child. You weren’t a child anymore. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

He put the car in gear and started to drive, his fingers tapping the steering wheel along to one of his cassette tapes. The sound of your heartbeat in your ears was enough to drown out any music that was playing.

“Hey, you good?” Dean asked, his hand resting on your thigh. 

You thought you might throw up, but after a few deep breaths you peel your eyes away from his calloused hands rubbing circles on your bare thigh for long enough to meet his green eyes. “Great.” You said, forcing a smile. 

“You sure? You’re not feeling sick from those shots, are you?”

Oh god, he thinks I’m going to puke in the car. “No. I’m not going to puke in the car.” _Great job, Y/N. Ugh! He’s going to let you out and tell you he changed his mind. You fucking blew it._

“Glad you’re feeling okay.” He smiled, patting your thigh, before bringing his fingers to your hair instead.

_Hmm_. 

Your head was spinning as he drove. 

“So,” he glanced at you again. “What’d you study, college girl?”

“Music.” 

He grinned widely. “Rock star, huh?”

“Classical music.” You grinned back at him. Talking about your music always helped. You could picture your fingers curled around your bow, warming up, and a breath of peace came over you. 

“Classic… rock?” He asked, sheepishly.

You grinned back. “I did to a cover of Carry on My Wayward Son with my violin. If that counts.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, Kansas is a classic. It counts.” 

He put the car in park in front of an old, ratty motel. The calm was quickly coming out of your pores in a cold sweat. Were you really going to go into a motel with _Dean Winchester_? 

“Shit.” He whispered, squinting at the motel.

“What?”

“Sammy… he’s… he’s in the room. Fuck. I’m sorry, Y/N. I can ask him to beat it for a bit.”

“No.” You smile weakly. Maybe it was for the best. “That’s okay. You can just… maybe we should say hi?”

He eyed you. “No offense, but if I bring you in there I won’t get a second for myself, because.. well Sam is a softy. I don’t think he’d give up the chance to catch up.” 

_He wants me to himself. What will I do alone with Dean Winchester?_ It didn’t matter, because Sam was in the room. Sam was your saving grace in the end. 

Dean turned to you slowly and put his hand on the back of your neck. “You’re a classy chick.” He said quietly. 

“Thank.. thank you?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“I hate to ask but… what about in here?”

_In the Impala?! In the sex mobile? Oh my god. I can’t. No fucking way._

You met his eyes and found yourself shrugging. The alcohol made your head tingle and you couldn’t think straight when he was that close to you. You could smell his skin. His aftershave smelled like mint and his lips were so full. You closed your eyes, clamping them shut, as his hand rested against your cheek. His thumb stroked your cheek bone gently, and you opened your eyes to find his baring into your soul. 

Even in the darkness, you could make out every eyelash, every freckle, and every shade of green that danced around his pupil. He was so beautiful. He literally took your breath away. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He echoed in a whisper, his nose brushing against yours. His breath was warm against your lips. You’d read about it in books. The moment before a kiss, when your body would scream out for your partners touch. It all seemed like a little much, a little dramatic. You were wrong, it wasn’t dramatic, or too much, it was everything, and fuck were you happy to be wrong. 

His free hand tickled down your arm with gentle fingertips, like a cool breeze. His hand snaked around your body, pulling you closer. You were almost in his lap, his hand on your back. His palm was flat against your spine. His eyes flickered to yours before closing. He leaned in, only a second away from closing the space between you when you stop breathing. 

It was like your heart stopped. Like time slowed to a screeching halt. 

“Dean.” You say before you can stop yourself.

“Huh? What? You okay?” He leaned back, alarmed. “Did I…?”

“No.” You stopped him, resting your hands on his chest. “I just.. fuck I can’t believe I’m doing this.” You ran your fingers through your hair anxiously. “I just… I haven’t.. done this before.”

“In a car?” He tilted his head to the side.

“What? No. I mean.. yeah no. Not in a car.. or uh.. anywhere.”

His eyebrows raised, and his hand slid off your back in shock. “You’re a virgin?”

“To say the least.” Embarrassment rolled up your skin, and you wished with everything that you could curl up into yourself and disappear. 

“Damn.” He exhaled. “Didn’t know they made those anymore.” 

“Really?” You eyed him, a bit annoyed. You knew, from Sams stories, that he didn’t have much tact. “Seriously?”

“Sorry.” He laughed, breathlessly. “I’m just surprised. Did you and Sammy never?”

“What? No. Gross. He was like my brother.” 

Dean smiled a little. It looked genuine. Not like he was poking fun. The corners of his eyes wrinkled and he scratched the back of his head. “That’s good to hear. That’s real good to hear.” 

“Dean I… I’m not just a virgin.” You sighed. “I… I’ve never even kissed anyone. God it sounds pathetic. I’m twenty-four years old and I’ve never been kissed.” 

His eyes landed on you seriously. “Never?”

“Never.” 

You half expect him to laugh in your face. You half expect him to run outside, and grab Sam. You half expect yourself to bust into tears but instead he nodded. “And you were going to spend your first kiss…with me?”

“Yes.” You say, sadly. Your voice hitching in your throat. 

“Okay.” He whispered, putting the car back into gear. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, sadly. You didn’t want him to take you back to the bar. You wanted to just get out. You wanted to call a cab and go home, and shame spiral into a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream. 

“Just trust me.” He said, offering you a smile, even though his eyes were serious. 

You sat back and tried to enjoy the ride, your eyes never moving from Dean. You could see his lip twitch like he was thinking. Like he was trying to think out loud, but not let you in on his secrets. “Dean…” 

“Hey, we’re here.” He said quickly, pulling over. 

You look around, squinting. In your time staring at him you didn’t notice that he’d driven you off into bum fuck nowhere. “Is this where you come to kill me?”

He laughed, louder than you expected, causing you to jump. “Shit. No, Y/N. Nobody is getting killed.” He eyed you before pressing his lips together. “You don’t… shit.. he did. Didn’t he?”

“He did… what?”

“He told you.”

“Told me what?”

He groaned. “Everything. He told you everything, didn’t he?”

You avoid his eyes, not wanting to get Sam into trouble. “Yeah. He did.” 

“And you still came with me?”

Your eyes flickered to his again. “Dean, he told me _everything_. Which means I know all about you.”

“And you still came…” He looked like the air got knocked out of him, as he swung the door open. He met you on your side, opening the door. “‘Mere.” 

You take the hand he’s offering a let him pull you out of the car. “What are we doing here?”

He pulled you to the front of the car, and put a hand on either side of your hips, hoisting you up until you sat on the hood of the car. You look at him surprised, realizing that he probably took you to this secluded location to ravish you, and heat crept up your skin again. 

“Wait.” He said, quietly. He came back a moment later with a couple of beers. “Here ya go.” He offered you one. 

You took it eagerly. Anything to quiet your mind. “Trying to liquor me up?” You joke.

“What? No…” He scratched the back of his head. 

“Then what?”

He turned his chin up and pointed. 

You follow his finger and your eyes are met with an endless stretch of dark, starlight sky. They were a thousand fireflies, glitter sprinkles on a New Years cupcake, a dozen candles on a church alter, and the flecks of gold in Deans eyes. The sight of all the twinkling, pale lights, against the black velvet sky took your breath away. You press your hand to your chest. “It’s… its so beautiful.” 

Your feel his fingers curled around yours in an instant. They squeeze gently. “Look.” He whispered, leaning in. His breath was warm against your ear, causing chills to creep up your spine, and the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Make a wish.” He said, pointing to a shooting star. It drug across the sky, and you close your eyes tightly. 

_I want you to kiss me_.

And he does. Before you can open your eyes you can feel the most gentle brush against your bottom lip. It was warm, and soft. Not like what you’d expect from someone with hands as rough as the one curled around your fingers. At first you weren’t sure if you really felt it. It was so gentle. Your lips stayed barely open, your cheeks flushed. “Dean…” You whispered.

“Yes?” You can feel his nose pressed to yours. 

“Kiss me again.”

He didn’t have to be asked. His hand reached for your cheek, holding you like something that was precious. Something that could be broken, and he brushed his lips against yours, a little harder this time. There was no question in your mind. You were kissing Dean Winchester. You could taste his beer on your lips, and you let him show you the way. He moved slowly his lips running along yours in a pucker and a release. 

You can feel yourself melting against him, as your arm moves around his shoulder. Your fingers grip his flannel in your hand. You can feel him smile against your lips, and it was so fucking exhilarating. 

His tongue ran along your bottom lip. It was warm, soft, and slick against your dry lips. Your mouth opened a bit wider, letting go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. His tongue slipped into your mouth before you could even think about it. It touched yours, and electricity shot through you. 

Dean pulled you closer to him, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He bit gently on your bottom lip, and fuck it was so much better than in your dreams. His hands ran down your back, through your hair, gripping the back of your neck. He was gentle but insistent. He was a great teacher, and just when you thought it would be too much, that you’d melt away into nothing, like the shooting star in the deep night sky, he released your lips. His forehead pressed to yours and he smiled. You were both breathing hard and his eyes flickered to yours. 

“Sorry. I planned on waiting… but you just… looking up at the sky you were just so beautiful… I couldn’t not kiss you. Didn’t mean to cross a line.” 

You pulled away a bit and smiled, sheepishly. “There wasn’t a line.” You admitted. 

“Sammy really told you about me?”

“He talked about you every day.”

He reached forward and ran his thumb around your bottom lip. “He talked about you, too. When he would call. When he’d send postcards.”

You raised an eyebrow. “He did?”

“Mhm.” He said letting out a sigh. He reached into his wallet.

“This wasn’t one of those dates, Dean.” You teased him, eyeing his wallet.

He rolled his eyes and opened the wallet, from behind his ID he pulled out an old, folded photograph and he slid it to you. 

You take the photo and unfold it, once, twice. You stare at the photograph. It was old, and wrinkled, and obviously looked at hundreds of times. _It was you._ A Polaroid that Sam had taken on that first Summer break. You had a flower in your hair and you were laughing. 

“You’ve had this the whole time?” You asked him, peeling your eyes up from the picture to his soft, vulnerable eyes. 

“Yeah. He sent it to me with a post card saying he was sorry. He said he had to try. That you made him want to try for more, and I don’t know… maybe you made me want more, too.” 

Your eyes sting and you laugh a bit. “I dreamed about you every night, Dean.” 

“I dreamed about you, too.” He said quietly, reaching out to touch your cheek again, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours for the third time. 

Dean Winchester owned your first three kisses, and if you had anything to say about it he would own every kiss for the rest of your life. The photograph felt heavy in your hand, as you opened your mouth, inviting him into you, inviting him closer, so you could melt into him like rain into the snow. And in the wake of the weight of the photo, you just hoped that you could live up to the girl in the picture, because he was sure living up to the man from your dreams. But he was Dean Winchester, after all, and you didn’t really expect anything else but exactly what he was all along. 


End file.
